The challenge

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The Challenge

I wonder when I will stop being seen as a challenge.

When boys won’t see just lips and hips, but my soul.

I’m so much more than a math problem that needs to be solved.

My talents will not be dissolved in your egotistical maze of lust, you must

See me more than pink matter.

My limbs can’t easily shatter.

I am a person, I have a soul.

Set goals that a penis cannot detour through, and try to minuscule.

 

I wonder if the devil prompted God to see if he could make man as best he can,

Or did we lose sight of our destiny to the enemy, engulfed in our own ambitions.

No one listens to a heartbeat take a seat, and love.

Not because it’s something we’re programmed to do, but because it gives this life meaning.

I wonder if my life has meaning.

 

LOOK AT ME! I am not made of just tissue.

I am made of something deeper, which cannot be chemically altered to appear as something less than it is.

I refuse to give in to man’s sin, to only see myself as an object.

To neglect this force flowing through my body telling me; I am more than the world makes it seem, than you made it seem.

 

Yes, I am the earthquake that will destroy your knowledge of me.

Of what any women should ever be.

Take into effect all of me.

Pry open your eyes so you can see my bloodstream, my heart shutters.

As it fights to be known, let alone loved.

 

Because guess what, you can try to break me down to the smallest of atoms.

By making your mind fit into a magnum.

"Of course you wanted to feel more like a man".

But did you only need one foot to truly stand? Like a tower blocking out my natural glow.

You stomped at my self-esteem to be the lowest of low, but you never knew that inside of me grew something more than you could describe,

That no statistics could try and deride.

My soul was still intact, even through the lack of care, no fear, I AM still here.

Giving it the love it needs, no man can destroy the me that ripped itself out of me.

This is what you failed to see.

No matter how hard you tried, the world has seen you for your lies.

Comments

Ifeoma Onwuka

Sorry if this poem is hard to read. I really just wanted to portray black females in a more positive light. Sometimes I feel as though we are remembered for just idealistic reasons, and we have so more to give than the color of our skin, or how big our hips are. All these things can no longer define us, SHOULD no longer define! We should be remembered for our beauty individually, not our beauty juxtaposed with history. Black females do not need their own requirement for beauty, we should simply all feel beautiful, and we should definitely no longer feel as though we are always up against a challenge to prove which girl is the best definition of what "black" should look like. 

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